#col peter walter iii

[saym0-0]

longish post so im shoving most of it under the cut sowry

angsty genderfeels au where rabbit was made a girl the first time round, but because she was given weapons for the weekend war the us army wanted her for ww1 but for sexism reasons they didn't want a woman fighting, so they made col walter make her a whole new chassis.

upgrade is also there but she was built maybe after the weekend war? so she doesn't have the same weaponry and was enlisted as a nurse instead. after the war ends rabbit was put back into her original chassis but in ww2 the same thing happened over again :/ except peter walter i died during the war, and ii and iii were worried about messing up her core and potentially killing her so couldn't put her back in her original chassis. alternatively, during the whole kidnapping debacle her original chassis was ruined beyond what the walters thought they could fix, and so they shoved her in her male one to save her life (maybe she feels guilty about hating her male body bc she knows it saved her life?) idk im spitballing here man. im just having Emotions about rabbit again as normal

god i wish i could write im having so many ideas for scenes for a fic im going to die

i cant!! get them out of my brain!!

upgrade specifically bringing a second dress that can be loosened to fit rabbit but pretending its jyst if she ruins her own,,

rabbit at first straight up telling everyone she meets that shes a girl but then slowly retreating back and letting them call her a dude bc its 'easier' ,, to the point where she doesn't argue when they come back and she cant be put into her original chassis just internally cries bc she doesn't think she'll ever be herself again,, grah im making myself sad :(( where is this gender angst coming from idek

[ulkaralakbarova]

In order to protect the reputation of the American space program, a team of NASA administrators turn the first Mars mission into a phony Mars landing. Under threat of harm to their families the astronauts play their part in the deception on a staged set in a deserted military base. But once the real ship returns to Earth and burns up on re-entry, the astronauts become liabilities. Now, with the help of a crusading reporter, they must battle a sinister conspiracy that will stop at nothing to keep the truth hidden. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Robert Caulfield: Elliott Gould Col. Charles Brubaker: James Brolin Kay Brubaker: Brenda Vaccaro Lt. Col. Peter Willis: Sam Waterston Cmdr. John Walker: O.J. Simpson Dr. James Kelloway: Hal Holbrook Judy Drinkwater: Karen Black Albain: Telly Savalas Hollis Peaker: David Huddleston Walter Loughlin: David Doyle Sharon Willis: Lee Bryant Betty Walker: Denise Nicholas Elliot Whitter: Robert Walden Control Room Man: James B. Sikking Capsule Communicator: Alan Fudge Vice President Price: James Karen F.B.I. Man Number 1: Jon Cedar General Enders: Hank Stohl President: Norman Bartold Dr. Bergen: Darrell Zwerling Dr. Burroughs: Milton Selzer Horace Gruning: Lou Frizzell Mrs. Peaker: Nancy Malone Jerry: Paul Picerni Alva Leacock: Barbara Bosson Reporter (uncredited): Bob Harks Film Crew: Casting: Jane Feinberg Casting: Mike Fenton Set Decoration: Rick Simpson Production Design: Albert Brenner Original Music Composer: Jerry Goldsmith Director of Photography: Bill Butler Costume Design: Patricia Norris Sound mixer: Jerry Jost Stunt Coordinator: Bill Hickman Makeup Artist: Michael Westmore Location Manager: Ron Underwood Assistant Director: Irby Smith Art Direction: David M. Haber Producer: Paul Lazarus III Director: Peter Hyams Special Effects: Henry Millar Associate Producer: Michael I. Rachmil Editor: James Mitchell Still Photographer: Bruce McBroom Script Supervisor: Marshall J. Wolins Hairstylist: Emma M. diVittorio Boom Operator: Joseph Kite Special Effects: Bruce Mattox Special Effects: Robert Spurlock Camera Operator: James R. Connell Title Designer: Dan Perri Movie Reviews: John Chard: It’s a pleasure alright, and I don’t feel guilty about it at all!. A NASA space mission up to Mars fails to get off the ground due to major technical problems. Fearing funding could be taken away and wishing to avoid embarrassment, the powers that be decide to do a fake landing in a studio. With the astronauts forced to pretend that they are actually up on Mars, and fighting with their own personal belief systems, the government executives in charge fear that the fake flight could come to light. Upon learning that the outside world actually thinks they crashed upon reentering the earths atmosphere, the astronauts run for their lives knowing that the government can’t afford for the men to stay alive. Capricorn One is an excellent conspiracy picture that sadly seems to have been largely forgotten. Even today we are still hearing mooted stories of the landing on the moon actually being fake, so here director and writer Peter Hyams takes it and crafts a thrillingly taut piece of work. At the films heart is Elliot Gould’s (his great 70s work under valued) intrepid journalist, Robert Caulfield, after being nudged in the ribs by one of his friends at NASA, is himself under threat of death from shadowy government types who will think of nothing to offing him along with the astronauts. The film is split into two very significant halves, the first half is the set up, the conversations before and after the fake landing are clever and crucially attention grabbing, and of course we get to know our characters with the right amount of time. The film then shifts for the second half into a quality thriller chase movie, our main protagonists pursued by the government assassins courtesy of two gun toting helicopters. Jerry Goldsmith’s score brilliantly becoming part of the chase sequences, making the helicopters seem like death stalking machines operated by no man alone. We even get Telly Savalas joi...

[ask-the-becile-boys]

I was reading through 'Debut' and was wondering if the Walter Bots and Workers disliked the Becile Bots because they'd said Becile was their creator and why that was? If so would the meeting have turned out any differently if the Walter's hadn't immediatly taken a dislike towards them becuase of that? Btw I'm loving the story I always get so excited when the notification pops up when you've posted hope you're doing well!

Debut Part 1, Part 2

I'm happy to go into more detail about this!

Just like how the Becile Bots don't have unified opinions on the Walters, the Walter bots (and humans) don't all view them the same way!

To keep it relevant to just the fic:

The Twins, Peter II and Peter III, grew up with Becile as a boogeyman, a traitor who had done terrible things but was presumed dead. Learning that he was still alive is a red alert, which is why the cautiously minded Peter III tries to get his brother and the 'bots away immediately, so they can inform their father. Peter II, on the other hand, is a little more boastful; he wants to rally a show of force and show Becile (indirectly) that the Walter family doesn't fear him.

The Walter robots, on the other hand, actually fought Becile's elephants and saw first hand their destructive power and the zombified pilots. They know Becile is dangerous. Where they diverge is whether or not the Becile Bots are inherently evil.

The Spine explicitly says that he believes nothing Becile makes can ever be good, and so is willing to fight back against what he perceives to be a real threat after The Skull punches him. Rabbit and The Jon (called Number Three in Debut) are willing to give the Becile Bots a chance, on the other hand; Rabbit becomes wary, but not hostile, waiting for them to show their own colors before she passes judgement.

The Jon doesn't have much of a heart for malice toward anyone, including Becile. I write him like this for a few reasons-- partially as his personality, partially as I headcanon him being a little prescient as part of his unique connection to Blue Matter. He has an innocent demeanor that belies wisdom beyond his years (at the time of the fic), and he senses that they'll suffer enough without him adding to it.

If The Skull hadn't announced they were made by Becile... well, Hare would've done it instead, The Skull kind of beat him to the punch. But if none of them had said it, the Walters would've been left much more confused. The Twins would've probably discovered the truth through their own investigations and then have had time to lay down rules for their robots about avoiding contact, being careful, etc. It would have been more of a delay of the inevitable truth coming out than a divergence in the course of the rivalry. But The Spine might have avoided getting his nose and guitar broken.

-

Also, thank you!! I've been looking forward to this storyline for a long time, it's kind of unreal that it's finally here and happening. And I'm doing well-- I hope the same for you!

[ask-the-becile-boys]

Fic: Debut, Part 2

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4226

Summary: The Becile bots meet their Walter counterparts for the first time.

Content warning: One accidental misgendering (corrected), some emotionally abusive language

----

　　Hare had already started scheming by the time they returned to the estate from their first show. The next morning, he walked into Pops' office with a cheerful step.

　　"Morning, Pops!" Hare said, flashing a grin. "Keeping it gloomy in here, huh? Sunshine helps you wake up, you know!" He threw open the curtains and Pops winced against the light. Before he could protest, Hare was already opening the window and leaning out, his hands on the sill. "Gorgeous day, ain't it?"

　　"I see your attitude has improved since last night," Pops grumbled, eyeing him suspiciously.

　　 "A hundred percent! Hard to stay upset, finally getting to see a piece of town." Hare kept his gaze fixed on the treeline that filled the bulk of the estate. "There's the view from the attic, but up close... it's bigger than I ever thought."

　　 "Yes, that is how perspective works," Pops said.

　　“Speaking of perspective,” Hare said slyly, turning around. “You wouldn’t happen to have something like a, I dunno, a guide to the city? Sights to see? Places of interest?”

　　“A map?” Pops asked dryly.

　　Hare snapped his fingers, pretending he’d forgotten the word. “Yeah, one of those! I wanna know what else is out there-- where we’re gonna go next, you know?”

　　Pops walked over to a shelf and ran one metal fingertip across the spines of the books at eye level. He pulled away a thin paper-bound notebook, almost a pamphlet, and glanced between Hare and it. Hare’s grin widened and he stepped forward, only for Pops to twist his wrist back toward his body, the notebook moving away from Hare’s reaching hand.

　　“This is a roadmap from before I went overseas,” Pops said warningly. “It may not still be accurate for something such as… navigation.”

　　“I hear you loud and clear, Pops,” Hare said with a wink. “We’ll have to grab you a new copy one of these days.”

　　Pops stared at him calculatingly, then slowly handed him the map. “Return it by this evening,” he said. “And Hare, be mindful. You embarrassed me greatly last night.”

　　Hare nodded, expression growing appropriately sober and chastised. “Real sorry, Pops. I’ll keep my head on straight from now on, promise you that.”

　　But Hare was already grinning again as he walked out of the office, flipping through the pages of the map book and looking for large, green patches.

　　“The kid said they played in a park, see?” Hare said to The Skull, pointing at one section of the map. “And if you’re gonna play music for people, you’re gonna go where all the people are, which means the big parks, which means this one!” He jammed a finger at a patch of green labeled City Park.

　　“Makes sense!” The Jack chirped.

　　“Do we have permission to go?” The Skull asked. “The truck could get us there.”

　　Hare hesitated, his grin straining with a hint of reluctance. “Well… If we just walk there and back real quick, Pops will hardly notice we were gone, right?”

　　The Skull looked aghast at the suggestion. “Hare, that’s breaking the rules!”

　　“Just a little!” Hare lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Just a quick walk! Maybe they won’t even be there, and we can come right back! Jacky, you’re with me, right?”

　　The Jack looked surprised to be drawn into the conversation. “Um, well,” he stuttered. “I would like to see more of town…”

　　“There you go!” Hare said with a smirk. But The Skull remained unconvinced and tense, and Hare’s shoulders slumped. “Skull, you don’t gotta come with us,” he said, closing the map book. “I thought we ought’a do this together, you know, like a unified front kind of deal. But me and Jack can handle this. Don’t worry about it.”

　　“I’m already worried,” The Skull mumbled. He thought for a moment. “And if something goes wrong, you’ll need help. I’ll go, but if we get in trouble, you have to admit it was your idea.”

　　“Deal!” Hare’s sharp smile was determined. “Then let’s go! You two ready?”

　　The Skull passed a hand over his head self-consciously, then grabbed a hat from the closest closet--a black Stetson forgotten by some long-ago guest-- and put it on. Hare himself wore a dark cabbie he’d pilfered in the weeks earlier, and The Jack had a bowler and a large red bow under his collar Hare had tied for him.

　　Hare all but marched out the door, map still in one hand, with The Jack at his heels. The Skull slowed down to close the door carefully behind them, making sure it didn’t lock. The gate at the end of the drive had no padlock, because there was no groundskeeper to attend to it. Hare flipped to a map page that had the estate marked in handwriting similar to Pops’ and boldly pointed them down the street.

　　They got lost almost immediately.

　　They scuttled from street corner to street corner, their direction good enough to keep them from going in circles, but sending them deeper into the heart of downtown instead. People were looking at them, too, which made them stand closer together, walk a little faster. Eventually, Hare gave up his pride and asked for directions from the only person in the vicinity not giving them a twenty foot berth or a terrified look: an old woman sitting patiently on a bench for her date to arrive.

　　“You poor boys must be from out of town,” she tutted, squinting at the map Hare had handed her. “They renamed that park Balboa just a few years ago. Head on down that way a spell until you see signs on the corners.”

　　They tipped their hats politely and scurried down the road, very aware of how far the sun had moved in the sky already. The signs proved accurate, and they came to a long, long bridge. They could see greenery and buildings on the far side.

　　“Piece of cake,” Hare said, trying to bolster their spirits. The Skull looked dismayed; The Jack, nervous. “Come on, fellas, we’re here now, right? It’d be a waste to turn around without even checking!” Hare cajoled before striding off, hoping they would fall in step behind him. The other two exchanged looks, and they followed.

　　There was a lot going on in the park. It was almost as confusing as downtown, but people here gave them fewer looks, like they were more used to seeing metal folks walking around. There was music, here and there, but it was the sound of steam escaping that caught their attention as they rounded a corner. Three metal people stood a little down the way: a copper one, talking excitedly; a brass one, rocking on his heels; a silver one, arms crossed.

　　 “That’s them!” Hare hissed, pulling the other two down behind a large hedge. The Skull struggled to crouch low enough to stay hidden, putting a hand on the top of his hat to steady it.

　　“Shouldn’t we go talk to them?” The Jack asked before Hare shushed him, motioning for him to keep his voice down.

　　“We need a plan,” Hare said quietly.

　　“Why didn’t we make one ahead of time?” The Skull asked.

　　“Why do we need a plan to talk?” The Jack asked.

　　 “Why’s this bush on fire?” someone else asked before leaning over the hedge to look at the three. They stared at him—one of the Walter robots, the one with brass plating and curly hair—and he stared right back.

　　 “Go away,” Hare said after a pause. “We’ll be over in a minute.”

　　 “Okay,” the Walter bot said with a smile before walking back to his group. The Beciles peeked over the hedge to watch him talk to the other two Walter robots.

　　 “Now what?” The Skull asked Hare quietly.

　　 “Why did he have hair?” The Jack whispered. “Can robots have hair?”

　　 “Maybe it’s a wig?” The Skull said uncertainly.

　　 Hare shushed them, more forcefully this time. “Okay, so, maybe we don’t have time for a plan,” Hare said quickly. “I just gotta figure out which one is Rabbit--” He craned his neck over the hedge for another look. The copper one was looking toward him and waved. Hare’s heart sunk a little; he could see a resemblance between himself and her. “That one,” he said to himself. “Come on, guys. Just follow my lead.”

　　Hare dropped the map book on the grass as he stood, pulling the brim of his cabbie down seriously. The Jack and The Skull followed suit, and they awkwardly made their way around to the other side of the hedge, standing across the lane. Hare filled his bellows and strode forward, straight toward the one that must be Rabbit. “You’se three the Steam Man Band?”

　　“The one and only!” the copper one said brightly. “My name’s Rabbit, and this here’s The Spine,” she gestured to the silver robot, who looked very confused by their appearance. “And this one don’t got a name, but we call him Number Three!” She gestured to the brass robot, who had picked up his guitar and resumed rocking on his heels.

　　“Nice to meet’cha,” Number Three said.

　　“Other robots?” The Spine frowned at their black smoke. “There shouldn’t be any other robots.”

　　The Skull caught his disapproving look and folded his arms. “We thought the same thing,” he said to The Spine, letting his annoyance slip. They glared at each other.

　　“Rabbit-- I’ve been looking for you.” Hare put his hands on his hips and stood up straight, looking her right in the face. “The name’s Hare.”

　　Rabbit’s mouth split into a wide grin. “Really? That’s funny.”

　　“Why?”

　　She stepped forward and snatched the hat off Hare’s head. “’Cause you ain’t got any!”

　　Hare gaped, then reached his claws out. “Gimme that back!”

　　Rabbit held the hat out of his reach, reaching up and pulling her own coachman's hat off and plonking it down on Hare’s head, sliding it over his eyes. “You can have mine!”

　　“I don’t want your stinkin’ hat!” Hare snapped, stumbling back and grabbing the brim of the coachman with both hands, yanking it up and glaring at Rabbit, now wearing the cabbie.

　　“So… where are you from?” The Spine asked slowly, moving the guitar he carried to his right side in a holstering motion.

　　“The other side of town,” The Skull said. He glanced at Hare and Rabbit’s fight. “This wasn’t my idea.”

　　“We didn’t know there were any other robot inventors in town,” The Spine said. “Or Blue Matter Cores the Walters didn’t make.”

　　The Skull’s brows lowered. “Blue?”

　　The Spine’s hand tightened on the neck of the guitar. “I can only think of one other kind.”

　　“—And we live in a big house—” The Jack was excitedly rambling.

　　“We live in a big house too!” Number Three cut in, grinning.

　　“Wow! Maybe we could visit each other’s houses sometime!”

　　“Don’t make friends with ‘em!” Hare snapped. The Jack grinned sheepishly, scooting away from Number Three. “We ain’t here to make friends, we’re here to make a point. We’re musicians, too, and good ones at that! And I ain’t about to let you’se bunch of blokes show me up!” Hare said indignantly, puffing out his chest.

　　“Not really much of a bloke,” Rabbit said. “What else you got?”

　　Hare blinked. “Oh. Um. Dame?”

　　Rabbit perked up. “That’s better!” she said brightly.

　　The Spine dropped his face into one hand wearily. “Rabbit, we shouldn’t be humoring them.”

　　“And who are we humoring, The Spine? New friends?”

　　Two nearly identical men in identical outfits were staring at them. The one on the right, who had spoken and was holding his cane like a prop, looked curious; the man on the left, who leaned on his cane out of necessity, was more tempered and cautious.

　　“What’s it to you?” Hare asked, earning a scathing look from The Spine.

　　The man on the right smiled at the one on the left. “Our reputation still doesn’t proceed us. I’m Peter Walter II,” the man said, then gestured to the man on the left. “And this is my brother, Col. Peter Walter III.”

　　Hare narrowed his eyes. Walter. “And how many Peter Walters are there?”

　　“Currently, three,” Peter III said dryly.

　　“Until one of us has children,” Peter II said. “Firstborn of the next generation will be Peter IV, be they boy, girl, or otherwise. But enough about us,” he said, stepping forward and opening his hands to the Beciles. “I’m extremely curious where you three have come from. You’re definitely not any of ours!”

　　Hare pushed out his chest, ready to launch into his own introductions, but caught a glimpse of The Skull straightening his shoulders, raising his head so the brim of his hat tipped back.

　　“Our maker,” The Skull said proudly. “Is Thadeus Becile.” He paused. “The First.”

　　Things got very quiet.

　　Peter II’s expression died like a guillotine blade had been dropped on it, replaced by shock and fear that melted into a mask of resolve. “I see,” he said evenly. “So the old man is still prowling around.”

　　“We need to go, now,” Peter III hissed, stepping up and grabbing Peter II’s arm.

　　“Wait a minute.” Peter II held up a hand. “We’re assuming they’re going to tell Becile about everything that happens here, right?” Peter II’s tone was light, but his eyes were steely. “Then let’s give them something to tell him about.” He lifted his chin at his father’s robots, and they snapped into formation. Rabbit’s mischievous expression had decidedly cooled, and The Spine was barely concealing his disgust. Number Three continued to smile without so much as a hint of malice. Peter II tapped out a beat with the tip of his cane, and The Steam Man Band began to play.

　　The Beciles listened silently to their playing. Hare’s frown deepened, because it was good; The Skull, equally unwilling to admit they had skill, disengaged his face plate so that no expression crossed it. At the end of the song, Number Three added a little flourish and bow. The Jack clapped excitedly, and Hare and The Skull elbowed him from opposite sides.

　　“Not bad, ey?” Rabbit asked. She took off the cabbie and flipped it back to Hare, who begrudgingly returned her coachman. “Next time, though, you gotta tip,” she continued, tapping the inner brim of her hat. “I’m serious, these instruments ain’t cheap.”

　　“We’ll be on our way, now,” Peter III said through his teeth. “Pack up, everyone.”

　　The Skull reengaged his face to lower his brows, offended and confused. “What’s the problem with my maker?” He shot at The Spine. “He’s a respected gentleman and a brilliant inventor.”

　　The Peters flinched and Rabbit laughed nervously.

　　Only The Spine responded. “Your creator is a bad man,” The Spine said quietly. “And nothing he makes could ever be good-- including you.”

　　No-one had taught The Skull how to throw a punch. It came to him naturally, as if he’d thrown a hundred before. The Spine fell heavily, crushing his guitar, his nose bent to the side.

　　Peter II started forward, trying to reach The Spine; his brother grabbed him and yanked him back, yelling, “Wait! He’s still armed!”

　　The Spine was getting up, the band of his guitar falling away with the broken pieces. His right sleeve was torn up-- still was tearing up, something was ripping it from the inside-- and there were actual sparks flying from his eyes. He lurched toward the Beciles, and his electrified arm lashed out at The Skull; only by grabbing the back of his coat together were Hare and The Jack able to yank him out of its path.

　　“Run away!” The Jack screamed. The Beciles bolted, tearing down the promenade with clouds of smoke trailing behind them.

　　 “Bye!” Number Three called after them, waving. “See you later!”

　　 “I hope not,” The Spine growled, coiling his weapon.

　　 “Oh, this ain’t the last we’ve seen of those three,” Rabbit said. “This is gonna be reeeeal interesting.”

　　-

　　“Idiots.”

　　 The three robots flinched at the acidity in Pops’ voice. None of them met his eyes as he stood up from the chair behind the desk in his office, practically baring his teeth. “I knew you were planning to sneak off, Hare, but I thought perhaps you other two had a little more sense!”

　　They had gotten back late, the sun halfway down the horizon. They had tried to be quiet coming in, but whether it was their clunky footsteps or the smell of coal smoke, Pops had appeared at the banister above the entry hall and ordered them to his office before any of them could hide. He had peeled the truth out of them with a piercing, damning glare, and now he was angrier than any of them had ever seen.

　　“You risked all the work I’ve put into you, leaving with neither supervision or permission--”

　　“Didn’t tell us not to go see ‘em,” Hare muttered.

　　“What was that?” Pops eyes locked onto Hare, bored into him. Hare shifted his shoulders and looked away. Pops let the moment drag, raking it through broken glass, before slowly turning his attention back to the group. “Not only did you disobey my rules,” he said darkly. “But you’ve involved yourselves in business that you were not ready for-- endangering me in the process. Walter knows I’m back, now, and that I’ve created you three. He could easily march his army here and destroy everything.” He jabbed a finger at The Skull, who has holding his hat in both hands and looking down at it. “You even said the robot you attacked was still armed.”

　　“Yes, sir,” The Skull said softly.

　　“Pity you did so little damage,” Pops said. “At least if one of them were gone, this wouldn’t have been a total loss.”

　　The three robots stirred uneasily at the suggestion. The Jack had started to cry.

　　“Enough of that,” Pops snapped at The Jack. “Dismissed, all of you. I have a lot to consider, including suitable punishment. Go.”

　　Outside the office, The Skull turned away from Hare and walked off on his own without a word. Hare tried to say something to his back, maybe apologize, but there were no words in his throat. Instead, he turned to The Jack, took out the same handkerchief he had used last night, and passed it to him.

　　“Don’t beat yourself up, Jacky,” he muttered. “This wasn’t your fault.”

　　-

　　Pops set them to a rigorous schedule of music practice and work. When they weren’t preparing for their next performance, just two weeks away, they were cleaning rooms and learning grounds-keeping. They scrubbed the floors and pulled ivy off the brickwork, and one day they took a ladder out to the big copper skeleton in the backyard and cleaned as much of it as they could reach safely.

　　“What is this thing, anyway?” Hare called down, using the guise of turning to talk to his brothers to actually look out over the estate, toward Balboa Park.

　　“Maybe it was a greenhouse?” The Jack suggested, pointing to the remaining panes of glass that hung between the ribs.

　　“I saw a diagram in one of the old workrooms,” The Skull said. “I think it was an elephant.”

　　The days dragged, but at least the manor looked nicer, they all agreed. But Hare especially was still unhappy, still feeling bested by Rabbit.

　　“Come on,” The Jack said a week later, taking one of Hare’s hands. “Look what we made out back!”

　　It was almost night, the sky still more purple than black. The Skull was standing just under the shadow of the elephant’s ribs, a shovel laying nearby. Hare walked up to his side and looked down at the wide pit The Skull had dug in the dead dirt. He’d layered it with sand found in a storage shed, and now a few of the bundles of dry branches and brush they’d made were sitting in it.

　　“We making a bonfire?” Hare asked. The Skull nodded and pulled out a box of matches, striking one after the other and placing them strategically around the bundles. Soon they were alight, and the three traced the path of the embers up, up, until the sparks danced against the half-dome above them. But soon the embers were outshone by the reflection of the fire against the ribs and the glass, shining back down on the robots and the wall of the manor. The entire spaced glowed.

　　“You two are pretty bright, you know?” Hare said approvingly, watching the firelight gleam off his arm. “Pops ain’t gonna get upset?”

　　“He said it would be a good way to get rid of the wood,” The Skull said.

　　“And I noticed how well the metal ornaments in the study caught the light,” The Jack said shyly.

　　“Well, this is one heck of an ornament,” Hare said.

　　They stood in silence for a while, each with his own thoughts, hopes, wonders.

　　“I wanna go back,” Hare said at last. The Skull and The Jack looked at him in surprise. “You guys don’t gotta come with me, but, I can’t leave it at that. I didn’t even get a chance to sing. I want them to know I’m just as good as them. Not just good, but different. That I’m not just… Not just a half-baked copy.”

　　After a moment, The Jack smiled. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “Maybe if we get them to respect us, we can fix things. Be friends!”

　　Hare laughed. The Skull glanced between them.

　　“Maybe someday,” The Skull said doubtingly. “But first, I want an apology. That Spine guy didn’t just insult me, he insulted our maker. If we’re proving anything, we’re proving him wrong.”

　　“Yeah we are!” Hare said, punching The Skull in the arm. “The three of us, we’ll show everyone in town-- there’s no keeping down these Becile bots! The Walters, their robots, heck, even Pops-- they’re all gonna see us for the champs we are.

　　“Yeah.

　　“They’re all gonna see.”